We had to find somewhere to stay, and we found a corner shop which had adverts in the window. There were no adverts about accommodation or homeless shelters, so we went in to ask for help. The shopkeeper was a young Asian man, in about his early twenties, and had a broad Liverpudlian accent.
"Sorry, lads," he began, "but only four kids are allowed in at a time. Did you see the sign?"
"No, sorry," Edgar said to him. He turned his attention to the rest of us, and said, "okay, Otto, Henry, Leon? You guys wait outside."
They obliged.
"So, what is it that you'd like?" the shopkeeper asked.
"Err... Duncan, you do the talking," Edgar said.
"Okay..." sighed Duncan, "we're homeless and looking for somewhere to stay. Do you know any homeless shelters?"
"Well, you've most certainly come to the right place!" the shopkeeper laughed, "I was homeless for a bit, and I stayed in an excellent shelter. It's Father Jonathan's church hostel in Tranmere, just over the River Mersey from here!"
"Thanks, we'll check it out," Duncan said, as we headed to the door.
"Wait!" said the shopkeeper, "you guys are American. Are you over here illegally?"
Edgar gulped. Duncan and I shifted uneasily. Omar tried to hide his face.
"Y- yes," I eventually said, "but please don't tell the police!"
"Trust me mate, I won't," the shopkeeper chuckled.
"Good. Thanks again; see ya round."
"Bye. And good luck!"
We told the others about the plan.
"Sounds great," said Henry, "but how the fuck are we going to get there if it's across the river?"
We didn't have that once covered. We had to sleep rough, for one night at least.
***
Edgar said that best place to sleep rough was in a shop doorway, so we split up into three groups: Edgar and Omar as the first, me and Duncan as the second and Leon, Henry and Otto as the third. Duncan and I didn't find a decent doorway, but we found a dark place behind a safe storage warehouse, right near a scrapyard. There were walls either sides of us, with another wall behind us, so we decided to set our stuff down there. After a few minutes, a kid who we'd never met came along. He was carrying a pack just like ours. He stared at us.
"This your spot?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Sorry. Should we get going?" I sounded relatively intimidated. The kids in Bullworth were tough, but having seen a fight over here - it was a group of teenagers wearing blue football shirts beating down a few teenagers wearing red ones - I knew that we had to be much more careful around here.
"Na, lads, you're alright," he said, to my relief, "just budge up so I can put my stuff down and you'll be fine."
"Sorry about earlier, we're relatively new," Duncan said.
He laughed, "yeah, I can tell. I've been around for about a month now; came over from Ellesmere Port on the Mersey."
"Cool. We came from Bullworth in New England."
"Sound. Name's Antonio, by the way. You?"
"Well, I'm Duncan, and this is Jerry," Duncan said, pointing at me as he did.
"Wait, did you say that you were from Bullworth?" Antonio asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Bloody hell! That's where Joseph Northrop fled to!" Antonio said.